


The Road Less Travelled By

by musiquetta



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiquetta/pseuds/musiquetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 99th precinct falls apart when over time and all too sudden everyone moves on .Amy and Rosa are the only ones left in a rapidly changed atmosphere and they do the only thing they can -- they fight back. </p>
<p>Not quite a dark!fic, though certainly sinister when compared to the source material.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road Less Travelled By

**Author's Note:**

> For Anna ([bisexualrosa](http://bisexualrosa.tumblr.com/)).

Most stories leave you in a better place than the one you set out from and that, Amy thinks, is what she likes about stories. They teach you that no matter how steep the road might get, even if the woods around you get so dark you can’t see your own hands, if you stay on course, if you walk along the road, you will find your way out.

 

But then again, this isn’t a story. This is her life and the woods around her are _oh, so tempting_.

 

Amy screamed in delight, wind whipping across her face as she leaned over the windshield of the bright red convertible. Her hand clutched onto the rim as they were speeding down the highway to the border.

 

“If your rabid screaming sends the cops down on our asses, I swear, I will push you out of this car and never look back.” Rosa yelled at her, her voice barely reaching Amy’s ears over the rush of the wind racing past her head. But there’s a broad grin on her face and it has been ever growing since they had left New York 2 days and 3 fake identities ago.

 

“Sorry, sorry.” Amy drops down into her seat, manic grin still on her lips.

 

“Man, Santiago, when you go darkside, you go all out, huh?” Rosa grinned at her as Amy buckled her seat belt. No reason to get reckless.

 

“I just stole 3 million dollars from New York’s most dangerous. What’s a little highway acrobatics against that?” she beamed and leaned over to press a kiss to Rosa’s lips.

 

It had started, Amy supposed, like all stories did; with change.

 

Of course they wouldn’t always be their merry crew of the 99th precinct, Amy knew that, had always known it. People get other jobs, they quit, they retire.

 

Holt was the first to go and if Peralta had kept telling everyone that Amy had practiced her tears in front of her mirror, that was only half true. What she had practiced was her farewell speech The tears had come on their own. Looking back on it now, maybe they had come because she had felt the storm coming that had started that somber afternoon.

 

To everyone’s surprise, he had taken Gina with him to be his personal assistant at his new job.

 

Next, Jake went off to Quantico, and everyone had seen that coming. This time, Amy’s tears had stayed private.

 

Terry had gone into parental leave when they had another baby. He had said he would come back and when he didn’t, Amy could hardly blame him. Maybe he was indeed better off with his desk job and petty crimes, somewhere in the suburbs.

 

Boyle had moved to Canada after meeting his new girlfriend and sent them all photos of his life as a Canadian small town police officer.

 

And so, one by one, one after the other they left. All but Rosa.

 

Of course, there had always been new officers, so Amy never let it get to her, telling herself they just needed some time to grow together again, to form new jokes and bonds.

 

But back then, she had already rolled her eyes sometimes, expecting the ‘title of your sex tape’ line, and was only met with silence before she had remembered.

 

Sometimes she had craved cheesecake and turned to ask Boyle, only to find his desk occupied by some other guy whose name Amy hardly knew.

 

And sometimes Amy had blamed herself for letting the familial atmosphere they had had and cherished fade, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t all her fault. Those guys were just a different kind of cop, she would tell herself.

 

That was when she still didn’t dare believe what had always been obvious in hindsight.

 

They had still closed cases alright but, as Rosa had always said, most days you couldn’t throw a kiwi into the holding cell without hitting someone innocent.

 

(She had demonstrated this on several occasions with varying pieces of fruit.)

 

But they had fit the profile and lacked an alibi, and the new boss cared a lot about solved cases and little about the fates behind the numbers.

 

These days it was all perps getting shady deals for crappy information and evidence disappearing. The job had turned into watching mothers cry as the murderers of their children walked.

 

They fought it, of course they did. But they were two latina officers up against an army of white men with money, and connections. Connections to the rich, to the mafia, to just about anyone determined to make their job a living hell.

 

The turning point, Amy supposes, was that awful trial with the hit and run that had cost a small girl his life. Perp was some rich boy in a porsche and there had been blood in his tire tracks as he had sped away.

 

They had tracked him down, spend weeks – months – carefully labelling evidence, following every protocol.

 

And then their case had just fallen apart. Proof of tampering on her own evidence surfaced, paired with witnesses on which you could smell the bribes.

 

As the case slipped through her fingers, Amy had faced up to the fact that only her colleagues could have been behind this plot.

 

It was more a dull realization than an epiphany. She had only stopped looking away, not wanting to believe.

 

After the verdict, Amy had run into the bathroom, barricading herself in a stall, screaming around her clenched fist.

 

And then, one day Amy had walked into the precinct and into the realization that it was never going to be like it was. Her breath had hitched in her throat, lungs paralyzed for a moment in which she knew, she just _knew_ it was never going to be okay.

 

Then, even from across the room, Rosa had taken in her trembling hands and hazy eyes, silently raising one eyebrow at her, before taking her out for drinks that evening.

 

Amy doesn’t remember much about that night.

 

At one point she had cried on Rosa’s leather jacket about the fact that for once in her life everything had been _good_ and she hadn’t wanted to go on as fast as possible. And then she had stayed behind, stuck on the job that used to be everything good in her life, which had turned into a nightmare.

 

But she couldn’t leave, not while the 99th was what it was one uniform away from the other side of the law. She had a feeling Rosa couldn’t, either.

 

If for nothing else but that they had promised to have each others backs.

 

She had only seen Rosa’s face through a curtain of tears that night, but even then she could recognize the fire burning in Rosa’s eyes. With a clearer mind she would have recognized that moment as another change soon to come, but in her addled state she had only had two thoughts.

 

‘I hope she won’t be too mad if I make it up to her by getting her jacket dry-cleaned’ and ‘God, she’s beautiful’.

 

Three days later Rosa had stomped into the precinct and forcefully sat down on the desk next to Amy’s computer, the same rage from that night out boiling over in her eyes.

 

Amy’s hand had shot out to grab her dangerously swaying monitor, something tingling in her stomach as Rosa thrums her fingers against Amy’s desk.

 

There had been blood drying on her knuckles. Amy had looked around for Rosa’s new partner – mid-forties, and particularly awful when it came to just about anything you could have an opinion on – but didn't see him.

 

“We’re getting out of here.” Rosa had said, voice gravelly – _choked up?_ Amy had wondered, but hadn’t said anything. Whatever had happened, shaking up Rosa – sturdy, unflinching Rosa – was a feat. “And we’re taking every single one of those bastards down with us.”

 

Then she had turned to face Amy, the hard edge in her eyes softening, now more pleading, as much as Rosa did pleading, and Amy had nodded.

 

And so began the time of spending every free minute sprawled on the floor of either of their apartments, cataloging their evidence. Tampering, inconsistencies, missing money and drugs, all wrapped up in little, life-ruining files.

 

“There’s finally an upside to those jerks always talking to my cleavage.” Amy had said, casually over lunch one day before pulling down her blouse, just enough to reveal the tiny microphone of the wire taped between her breasts.

 

Rosa had laughed so loud she startled all the other patrons in the diner – but there had also been a spark in her eyes and a lingering look sending Amy’s blood to her face.

 

Amy had been proud of the subdued pink instead of the expected scarlet tinge on her cheeks as she had pulled her clothes back in order again.

 

Soon after that, on the sunlit floor in Amy’s apartment next to the evidence that could put the rest of their precinct away for the rest of their lives, they had sex for the first time.

 

Amy had held onto Rosa’s shoulders as her long, slender fingers explored the curves of Amy’s body. She lost herself in pleasure and the hope of a brighter future.

 

It was sometime after that, between the gentlekiss that Rosa pressed to Amy’s shoulder as they sat up from the cooling floor, and the week after when Rosa perched on the side of her desk again, eyes less fire and more like the sludge of a extinguished flame, that Amy decided.

 

This time, justice wouldn’t be enough to compensate.

 

And even if they took their entire department and all they ever did dirty business with, who was to say that the next commanding officer walking through that door wasn’t going to be as dirty as the last one?

 

And if they were alone now, as they racked up evidence, how alone were they going to be when they had taken down one of the most corrupt police precincts in the state?

 

They weren’t arming themselves, Amy had realized, they were painting a target on their backs.

 

One day they sat on opposite ends of Rosa’s couch, mounds of paperwork between them, as they were building their case, as Amy brought up her worries.

 

Rosa had barely acknowledged her words, or so Amy had thought – she was still hard to read sometimes. Instead, she had reached behind the couch and pulled out a file Amy hadn’t seen before.

 

“I figured out where they stash some of their cash.” she had said. “It’s only about fifty grand, but it’s a start.”

 

”A start of what?“ Amy had asked. Rosa had smiled in that wicked way of hers and had tossed her a bundle of fifty dollar notes.

 

”Our ticket out of here.“

 

Something had dawned on Amy that moment when there had been this tingly feeling in Amy’s stomach again. She had stopped worrying about getting the flu a while back, it was only _this_ , all of this that made her tingle all over.

 

It made her feel _alive_.

 

“So what do you say,” Rosa had drawled. “does this money buy some ugly ass pearl necklace for the mistress of some mobster or like ten thousand margaritas at some beach in Mexico – for us?”

 

There had still been a part of Amy that had resisted, of course.

 

One choice was New York, forsaken and sold out by all her superiors, fearing for her life as some of New York’s filthiest criminals slash police officers plot their revenge.

 

The other was a beach with Margaritas and Rosa on it.

 

Rosa, who said ‘us’ with that smirk on her lips, the same smirk she always had when Amy was panting and clinging to Rosa’s sweat-drenched back.

 

It wasn’t really a choice.

 

“I’m more of an Appletini girl.” she had replied, leaning over to catch Rosa’s lips in a kiss.

 

“Heathen.” came her answer as they sank down and created a huge lipstick stain on what later in the trial was referred to as Exhibit K: Original Transcript of Johnson murder confession.

 

And then, one year after their first afternoon sprawled over the honest and ugly truth about their colleagues, they were ready.

 

Ten boxes, packed to the brim with evidence – audio files, trashed interrogation videos they had gathered from the garbage, and names, so many names – had been sent to the appropriate place, to the one person they knew wouldn’t just let it slip.

 

Former police captain Raymond Holt saw to it that there was no one that would get away this time.

 

24 hours later warrants were issued and raids were prepared.

 

48 hours later, they were only 50 miles from the border, when Amy’s phone rang.

 

An icy chill shot through their veins despite the sun burning down.

 

“Who’d you give that number to?” Rosa frowned as she sped up the car. They couldn’t fail, not now. “You’ve only had it for three hours!”

 

“Nobody! I don’t know who – ” Her voice gave out as her shaking hands hold up the phone.

 

_Please_ , Amy prayed as her numb fingers fumbled for the brand new cell phone. “What do I do, Rosa, do I answer?”

 

Rosa nodded grimly, foot slamming down on the speed, racing towards the border at nearly a hundred miles per hour. Amy’s finger jittered as it slid across the screen.

 

“Hi there, Thelma.” a voice drawled before Amy can stammer anything into the receiver. “Or are you more of a Louise?”

 

“Gina?” Amy half-yelled at the phone as she recognized the caller’s voice. Rosa slammed down on the breaks.

 

Moments later they were standing on the road, car turned at an odd angle. Amy hears Gina laugh.

 

There’s a lot of yelling going on in the background, Amy heard the odd curse word, a lot of shuffling and general chaos. No wonder Gina sounded like she is having a blast.

 

”Duh, who else? Two things. One: you’re missing out on the greatest show in the universe, all these pigs scrambling for freedom. Holt looks like Christmas came early. It is hilarious, I’m impressed and also super pissed you didn’t tell me about your evil plot.“ Gina’s pout was audible. ”And two: tell Rosa to stop frowning like that, I’m no rat.“

 

And truly, Rosa was giving Amy’s phone her most impressive scowl.

 

”How did you get this number?“ Amy asked. Gina only laughed.

 

”So yeah, actually I just called to say get me some of my favorite tequila, but the good stuff. I know you can afford it. And now go and have your lesbian beach adventure, I’ll snapchat you the tears of these babies when Holt breaks them into tiny misogynist pieces. Bye!“ With that Gina hung up on her and Amy was gaping.

 

Rosa clenched her jaw, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel.

 

A year ago Amy wouldn’t have been able to read the tension in Rosa’s shoulders as scared. For a moment there, Rosa had been scared to death. But to get to them, anyone would have to outwit Gina, which, seriously?

 

No, they still were safe. This was going to go their way.

 

They were actually going to make it.

 

Amy put her phone back into her pocket, then reached for Rosa’s shoulder, squeezing her arm. Rosa’s head dropped forwards as the tension seeped out of her, forehead hitting the steering wheel with a dull thud. Her pitch black hair was obscuring her face.

 

Amy gently called her name as her shoulders trembled, then shook.

 

Then a chuckle erupted from Rosa’s mouth, sounding through the desert heat, soon building up into roaring laughter. Rosa’s laugh was contagious and soon they’re both stupidly laughing as Rosa started the car again and they speed towards the border and the future they have worked for, risked everything for.

 

And it was going to be okay, Amy knew, as long as they had each others backs.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I'm [here](http://cptcarol.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


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